“Now what impels you, and what leads you on,”
  The country girl of city girl inquired,
  “To outrage us like this and say such words
  Against us, you who are the very worst
  Of creatures, in whom all the vices are
  Assembled?  You are wicked sinners all,
  And Satan would not dare to tell your deeds. 
  You are all witches.  And you would betray
  Your brother, not to speak of husbands.  You
  Walk all unguarded in the street alone,
  Against your husband’s will.  And you deny
  Your holy faith.  The curse of heav’n will weigh
  Upon you when you go to meet your God. 
  Not one of you is honest.  O ye blind
  Who do not wish to see, whence comes your blindness? 
  You violate the law divine, and few
  Among you fear the Lord.  ’Tis in the country,
  Amid the fields, that women worship God. 
  Why say’st thou that the city women sole
  Are pious?  Canst thou say my prayers for me?”

  “What pleasure have the country girls?” replied
  The city girl.  “They’ve no amusements there. 
  There’s nothing to divert the eyes.  Their hands
  They do not stain with henna, setting off
  A rounded arm.  Rich costumes they wear not,
  Which cost some hundred silver pieces each,
  Nor numerous garments decked with precious stones. 
  They are not coifed with kerchiefs of foulard
  With flowers brocaded.  Neither have they veils
  Nor handkerchiefs of silk and broidered gold. 
  They never have a negress nurse to bring
  Their children up and run on services
  Throughout the house.  And yet they boast as loud
  As any braggart.  Why bring’st thou the charge
  That I a blameful life do lead, whilst thine
  Deserves reproof?  Dirt in the country holds
  Supreme control.  The water’s scarce enough
  To drink, with none left for the bath.  The ground
  Serves you as bed, and millet is your food,
  Or rotten wheat and barley.”

                              Then took up
  The word, and spoke the Arab woman dark: 
  “Who are thy ancestors?  Which is thy tribe
  Among all those that fill the mighty world? 
  You’re only Beny Leqyt, and the scum
  Of people of all sorts.  Thou call’st thyself
  A city woman.  What are city men? 
  Thy lords don’t slander folk.  ’Tis only those
  Who come whence no one knows who have so rude
  A tongue.  Thou wouldst insult me, thou, of stock
  Like thine, with such a name abroad!  And thou
  Wouldst taunt a Qorechyte, a Hachemite
  Of glorious ancestors who earned their fame. 
  Tis proper for a woman born of such
  A stock illustrious to vaunt herself
  Upon her origin.  But thou, a vile
  Descendant of a conquered race!